


Abracadabra

by eyemeohmy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drabble, Groping, Kissing, M/M, Multi, No Sex, Sexuality, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time to put on the top hat, break out the wand, and join the magic show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abracadabra

**Author's Note:**

> lol wrote for whatever  
> usually i prefer bots with masks/visors having no mouths/optics but eh this is for kinky reasons not logical ones

In the beginning, it started with frequent interruptions in regards to criticizing each others technique or complain about something or other.

Honestly, Skids wasn’t really listening, sort of too busy with a head full of heat, two psychotherapists (one famous, the other practically unknown) seated on his lap, one per leg, and up until three seconds ago when the arguing caught up again, making out. Skids was too lost in the moment, too aroused to join in on the complaining but for an entirely different reason.

Froid—mouth apparatus removed, whodathunk—leaned in and captured Rung’s lips again, forcing a kiss. Not to be outdone, Rung kissed back, a little harder, and it was both clumsy and quick as Froid, for the tenth time in the last five minutes, sat back and snapped, “Absolutely abhorred!”

"Applying the same force as you; I only intended to return the favor, Froid."

There they went again. Moaning and groaning and hissing and spitting like a bunch of wet cats. _Sexy_ wet cats, but wet cats nonetheless. Now Skids’s charge was beginning to meander, and frustration ebbed at his temples and, more importantly, his groin. Their bickering was chasing off his arousal, and he would have none of that.

"Just… just…" Skids’s left optic twitched, teeth grinding as the whining continued, "just—!” Finally, he slapped a hand to the back of each therapist’s head, surprising them into silence, and before they could continue their not-so-sexy lashing at one another, Skids shoved their faces together. It wasn’t very attractive or nice, but he didn’t care. They were smart guys—they’d figure out why he was so frustrated, and what they could do to— _ahem_ —ease his anger.

They did catch on fast, thank God, because as soon as Skids dropped his hands, Rung and Froid exchanged mild, semi-annoyed looks before diving in to resume kissing. They seemed to have found common ground, and their attempt to focus on their “patient” soon melted into something very real and alluring, and with Froid’s hand sliding up to cup Rung’s cheek and Rung’s long little fingers curling around Froid’s hip, it also seemed they weren’t entertaining just a single spectator now.  


Skids would venture they were actually _enjoying_ this. As if they got over their rivalry—or were simply picturing someone else in their places. Still, their kisses were deep, lasting more than a few seconds; optics closed, they occasionally tilted their heads, bowed down, experimenting. It was no longer a fight for dominance, but Skids thought maybe their tongues had taken up the swords instead.

Speaking of which—every few seconds, Skids could see a peek of their tongues, running and rubbing against each others before plunging back inside. No, no, come back out and play! And Skids shivered at the way Rung moaned, Froid taking his chin, tilting his head back, and oh Lord, now the white one was trailing his lips down the orange one’s jawline, down his neck, pausing to nip ever so delicately and nicely at fuel pumps.

Rung shuddered. Shaky hands reached out, found Froid’s waist; rubbed, lowering down until fingers splayed over thighs, the edges dipping into groin seams, and Froid groaned loudly against Rung’s throat, taking a sharp invent of air.

Skids’s engine was roaring. His armor was shaking. But, no. Let this last.

He slid his hands up their backs, pushing them together, and as if obeying, they met each other into another heavy, needy kiss that pushed Rung back against Skids’s hand.

Oh, it was so wonderful. Skids was melting in his chair. H-He couldn’t hold back; as much as he wanted to watch these two precious, precious bots put on a show for him, Skids was tired of lingering in the wings; an eager participant in the audience waiting to be called on.

Time to put on the top hat, break out the wand, and join the magic show.

Skids pulled them close, leaning forward, and soon his own tongue was breaking into the fray. Heads turned, three mouths exploring, breathing against one another. He kissed Rung, and Froid caressed an audiol. Skids sat back, taking Froid by the chin and pulling him into a kiss. Rung nuzzled his mouth and nose against the crook of his neck, licking the hot wiring.

Skids’s hands groped at their hips, massaging thighs, legs falling open for him. He broke the kiss with Froid with a small sigh, sinking back into his chair. The two slid down with him; Skids tilted his head back, letting them kiss and caress and lick his neck, his jaw, occasionally brush lips or bite them lightly. Hands traced and pet the seams along his chest and arms, small, nimble fingers kneading and tugging and—

Oh, goodness. Skids just remembered: _this was only the beginning_.


End file.
